


Snow House

by GreyMoth



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AmeCan, Bottom!Canada, M/M, PWP, Top!America, igloo building, kink meme fill, sleeping-bag sex, trapped in a snow storm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMoth/pseuds/GreyMoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just another routine trip to the Arctic for Canada. That is, routine until America decided to show up and long buried feelings started coming back to life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow House

To Matthew the entire world was like a white blanket that stretched as far as eye could see; a frozen deserted wasteland that welcomed few, and was fickle even with them. The sky was just as inhospitable, starting as a wall of mottled grey- bruised purple- in the north before tapering off to a beautiful clear blue. The clouds added character to the landscape, but they also added a sense of urgency as they swelled, lightning flashing from within their depths.

The sound of thunder almost swallowed up the buzz of a skidoo's engine and it wasn't until it drew closer, a small speck appearing in the distance, that Matthew took notice. Pausing as he slid another block into place, he studied it with curious amethyst eyes, watching as the speck grew larger until the machine drew close enough that he could make out the stars and stripes painted over it like the flag of its rider.

"Really, Alfred?" he groaned as the skidoo slowed to a stop, forcing down the desperate urge to bang his head against something. By the looks of it Alfred had packed nothing in preparation of staying the night and even his clothes were just bordering on suitable for the cold weather.

"Sup, bro!" Alfred yelled, pulling off the helmet with little fan-fair as Matthew sighed and fished in his pockets for his extra toque.

"Alfred," he started calmly as he held out the hat, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, your boss told my boss who told me that you were heading up north for a little bit. What's with that, dude? It's not safe!"

"I'm a Nation bunking with a polar bear. How much more safe can I get?"

"A lot safer now that the Hero is here! You building one of those icicle/ snow globe houses? I can totally help out with that." Matthew quickly opened his mouth but it was too late, Alfred had already taken a running leap and flew over the snow wall that separated them.

"No, Alfred!" Matthew yelped as he reached out and jerked him sideways in midflight, stopping the superpower from plowing into the opposite wall, "You would have been way more helpful on the outside."

"Chill, bro. We're all good. No harm done and all that shit. Man, we haven't made one of these in ages!"

Matthew tried to hold on to his frustration even as that innocent and infectious smile threatened to break down his barriers. Instead, he let go of Alfred's parka and knelt down to cut out another block of snow, opting to ignore his current problem instead of dealing with it. Sadly Alfred didn't take well to being ignored and made his presence known even as Matthew fought to distract himself.

"I remember when you first taught me how to do this is; it was back during the cold war and we were working on NATO. Do you remember that, Matty? You kept complaining that it took you twice as long as it would have if you had been working by yourself."

"It's not complaining when it's the truth," Matthew grumbled, cutting the block into shape so that it would sit without tipping.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, "You remember how to do it?"

"Not really," Alfred replied back cheerfully, picking up the toque from where it had fallen and placing it over his head, "Just little bits about how to hold the knife and how to fill in the holes with snow, which is probably what you wanted. Where is that bear of yours anyways?"

"Kumabassa? No idea, he usually spends the first few days wondering around," Matthew heaved a block over his head and quickly cut it into shape before bending down to make the next. He could feel Alfred's eyes on him, watching him intently with a single-minded focus as he sealed them within the snow house.

"How long have you been doing this?" Alfred sat down on the edge of the platform that would soon hold Matthew's bed, looking completely content to let his brother do everything.

"Ever since I was old enough to hold the blocks," the last brick was cut out and put in place, "Did you bring a sleeping bag? Or anything to keep you alive tonight?"  
Alfred looked back at him sheepishly, the faint light that filtered through the cracks brightening up the structure just enough that Matthew was still able to see him, "I kinda wasn't thinking about packing for an overnight arctic camping trip when I left to follow you."

Matthew resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he cut out the door and crawled out, "Then help me by bringing in my things from the sled, get supper ready, and set up the sleeping bag. I'm going to finish up making the igloo and then I'll join you inside."

"Yeah, yeah, calm down, bro," Alfred grumbled as he crawled out behind him.

"Calm? Alfred, look," Matthew pointed directly above them where clouds hung closely overhead, swollen and darker than ever before, "We have to rush to beat this or else we're going to be trapped unprepared in a blizzard, which is never fun in case you've forgotten."

"Oh no, I remember," Matthew almost missed the words as he set to work, but he didn't miss the sudden speed and efficiency in which Alfred decided to move. Filling in the cracks took less than ten minutes and by the time Alfred was yelling at him that he was putting on supper, he was already half done the semi circle wall that would serve as a bathroom. Together they managed to get the igloo fitted for human habitation and Matthew was able to crawl back inside into a warm room when the first snowflakes fell.

"It looks great in here," he commented as he sat down to wait for the soup that was heating in a pot over the small propane stove that took up most of the entrance. Alfred smiled at him as he finished organizing the bags into an out of the way pile that was easy to manage, the small flame adding warmth to his expression as it sent dancing lights across his glasses. It made him glow, gave him the surreal look that matched their being of Spirit, even as the shadows touched his skin and eyes, marking him and driving in why they were also called Demons.

"Soup will be ready in a bit so we'll just have to relax for now. You know this could be super fun, we never get to spend much time together anymore, and I don't know the last time we had to bunk together like this."

"Like what?" Matthew asked, suddenly suspicious as a feeling of dread crawled up his spine. Alfred may not remember but there was a reason that they never shared beds, even if that meant Matthew had to share with Russia; that was just a sacrifice he'd had to make in order to save his dignity. Of course it still happened, but thankfully there had always been an extra bed so they never had to literally sleep together anymore.

"Sharing the same bed; it's going to be squishy but at least we'll be warm enough so that we won't have to worry about freezing to death." There was a pause as Alfred brought a spoonful of soup up to his mouth and took a sip, "Mmmm, not as good as a hamburger would be right now, but still pretty good. You want the spoon or the mug?"

"Mug," he told him, trying to distance himself from the spoon that was once again slipping between Alfred's lips. The American didn't seem to notice anything out of place as he poured half of the soup into a black mug, something for which Matthew was eternally grateful.

The mug was handed over and he took it, sipping on the broth and munching on the freeze dried chicken and vegetables. Alfred took a place beside him, still completely bundled up as the inside heated to a nice spring temperature, warmed by both the stove and the heat given off of their bodies.

Matthew set the empty mug down on the floor and got down to crawl to the doorway, peeking outside just in time to be blinded by a flash of lightning straight overhead as the snow started falling in earnest. If the snow on the ground was a blanket, the snowflakes falling from the sky were a wall, muting out everything that was more than two feet ahead of him.

"You're not going home tonight or tomorrow by the looks of it," he informed his surprise guest as he fitted the extra slab of snow to block the opening, "I brought enough food for two weeks, bathroom is just to the right, but if you have to go out during the storm make sure to attach the rope that's in the blue bag to your person. Don't roll your eyes at me, Jones; I know smarter people than you who have died trying to use an outhouse in a blizzard."

"Honestly, chill bro. The worst that can happen is that I end up hibernating up here for a bit until you defrost me."

"Now why would I do that?" Matthew asked innocently, using some of the shaved snow to clean out the mug, then the bowl and spoon when they were handed to him.

"Because I'm epically awesome, and you would die without me?"

"Maybe, but I know of more than one country that would just love to take your place as my main trading partner. China, for one, has been itching to take your spot for a couple of decades now-"

"Hold up, I thought we were having a bro's night, so no talking about that Commie, or any Commies for that matter."

Matthew almost opened his mouth to point out that it wasn't him who had started it, but the thought of how childish he would sound- and how Alfred would make fun of him for the next two months- stopped him. He opted for a small grin instead and a shrug of his shoulders as he peeled off his jacket, "I've been up since 3am so this isn't going to be a very fun 'bro's night'. If you want to stay up longer then there's a deck of cards somewhere in the yellow bag, or you can sit and eat beef jerky I suppose."

"Naw," Alfred told him and went to snoop out a water bottle, toothbrush, and toothpaste, "You don't mind sharing your toothbrush, do you? I can just use my finger but that never feels the same."

"Sure," Matthew sighed as he inwardly cringed; if Japan considered sharing drinks an indirect kiss he wondered what the island Nation would think if he heard about this, "And I wasn't planning on company so I hope you don't mind that I don't have any pajamas, so it's boxers and a shirt."

"No problem!" his neighbour said, just a little too quickly and enthusiastically for it to pass off as anything except for fake.

"Sorry," he muttered, spreading the toothpaste over the soft bristles of his toothbrush, avoiding eye contact with the sapphire blues that darted towards him.

"What are you sorry for? It's not like you knew I was coming or anything like that," Alfred looked slightly baffled, but was soon distracted by the complicated removal of the large parka that tried to stick to his arms, "This thing is like a fucking straight jacket. How do you manage to wear it all the time!"

Matthew grinned around the foam, then spat it out against the base of the wall where he quickly covered it up, "You get use to it, Houdini," then added, "Your turn," and handed over the toothbrush that he had splashed water over to clean.

Alfred took his spot against the wall as Matthew went over to turn off the stove and pulled his own parka off before tossing it onto the pile of bags. A quick readjustment had the caribou skin placed under the sleeping bag before his sweater was placed neatly at the top and his shoes kicked off nearby. Alfred handed over his glasses, and the Canadian put the two pairs into the green bag that held his clothes. His pants followed slowly afterwards, fingers hesitant in lowering the thick fabric, mirroring the turmoil that his mind was going through.

"Aren't you freezing?" Alfred's loud voice registered, just as the pain of his teeth biting down into his lip shocked through his system, "Even if you're not, hurry the fuck up because I am. Pretty sure my balls are making a strategic retreat from the cold."

Matthew shrugged, torn between laughing and groaning as he pointed out, "It's at least 5 degrees in here. Your balls will be fine."

Alfred shot him a dirty look as he tossed his clothing onto the pile of bags, "Yeah, 5 degrees Fahrenheit. Move over, I'll take wall and you can sleep with the zipper beside you all night for being such a slowpoke."

The Canadian watched as the world superpower crawled onto the platform and then into the sleeping bag, the 'America, Fuck Yeah!' boxers bringing a small grin to his face even as his stomach twisted itself into knots. The last time they had slept like this had ended with an inopportune wet-dream starring the Nation before him, and waking up to the feeling of something hot and heavy dampening the back of his boxers. Alfred had not woken until a few hours later, by which time Matthew was in the kitchen making pancakes and pretending nothing had happened.

Taking a deep breath, he crawled into the cramped space, turning his back to his neighbour as he pulled the zipper up and locked them inside the fabric prison. His back pressed against Alfred's chest, every part of their bodies touching as an arm wrapped itself protectively around his waist, warm breath ghosting against the back of his neck.

"Good night," he choked out, hoping his voice wasn't as raspy as it sounded to him.

"Night, Mattie," Alfred mumbled, his lips brushing against the back of Matthew's neck, inciting a little shiver that he quickly disguised with a short cough. His fingers tightened around the soft interior of the bag before relaxing, his mind focusing on the steady beating of America's heart and the calming warmth that wrapped around him.

He could feel the other Nation drift off into sleep, the muscles that had been unknowingly tensed now relaxing, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Matthew would have given anything to be able to do that, to fall asleep anywhere at any time on command instead of having to toss and turn until his mind could no longer outpace his body in demands for attention. He buried deeper back, feeling the arm tighten and move until the hand rose to tuck itself against his sternum, fingers gently tracing over his skin until they fell still.

His breath left him with a soft sigh, eyes closing on their own accord as he forced his brain to shut down, counting seconds as they passed and pacing ever intake of air. 3am had been a long time ago, and he felt his body eagerly reach for sleep even as his mind continued to try and wonder away, wanting nothing to do with the sheep that he tried to send dancing through it. But finally it listened, finally it shut down, lulled into security by the warmth of the bedding and the demand of his body.

________________________________________

 

Matthew had no idea how long he had been sleeping when he suddenly jerked awake, body thrumming with need and suddenly too warm. His hips arched in remembrance of a dream that his mind refused to fill him in on, grinding back with desperation against muscled thighs that held him in place. A low moan left his mouth as he felt the stirrings of Alfred's arousal behind him, the two layers of thin fabric doing nothing to disguise the heat that pulsed against him.

A frantic search for the zipper to the sleeping bag ended abruptly with a slow movement of Alfred's hips, wringing out another desperate whine from his throat as his body instinctively moved back. Lips moved against his shoulder, murmuring sleepy nothings as they caressed the skin beneath them, and the hand moved back down to cup his hip.

"Oh, fuck, Alfred. Don't wake up, just please just don't wake up," he gasped against his hand that he had risen to stifle the small breathy moans that kept escaping.

"Hmmmm, what?" a sleepy voice asked behind him as the calloused hand slid down, brushing against his erection that threatened to free itself from his boxers. Even half asleep the American's hips continued to thrust forward, body dedicated to seeking release that the mind hadn't realized it wanted.

"Don't wake up," Matthew hissed, mind trying to work but once again being taken over by a more physical desire, "Just keep dreaming."

" Shit, Matt," a leg sneaked between his, followed by another as he tilted his body to let him slide under Alfred's, keeping his back to him as they continued to move together, "If this is the kind of dream I get then I'm not fucking likely to let myself wake up."

Hands trailed under his shirt, pushing it up as teeth scraped against the skin over his jugular, tongue occasionally darting out to lap against the rapid pulse. There was only a moments respite where the fabric was pushed over his head, but the rhythmic dance of their bodies never slowed, each giving and taking every little bit that the other offered.

"I want you," Alfred breathed, voice sounding deeper and darker, "I want you so fucking bad," his hand traced down Matthew's torso, drawing out another shudder from his body as the fingers paused at the elastic band that blocked their path.

Matthew growled low in his throat, giving an angry buck of his hips that earned a chocked groan from both of them, "In your dreams, America. Only in your dreams."

"You have no idea," was followed by a rough grind that had his back bowing, raising his ass higher as the feeling of spreading damp made the fabric cling closer to his skin. A harsh gasp and his body was driven down again, pushing it into the unforgiving cloth covered snow.

"More," he rasped, 'Give yourself to me'

A dark chuckle, and the hissed words, "Don't regret this, Canada," the only prelude to the warm hand that wrapped around his length, slickened with the pre-cum that stained the sleeping bag beneath him as they continued to rock together.

The fabric kept them pressed close together, giving only inches that they snatched up greedily, using it to arch themselves closer, sweat slick skin sliding together harmoniously. Matthew's teeth clenched, his body rebelling against the shorts that kept him from feeling Alfred entirely, the chafing feeling uncomfortable even when overpowered by the feeling of pleasure.

"Clothing off," he ordered, using all of his self control to slow his hips. The American whined, the sound coming out as a whimper of pained loss even as he did as he was told, pulling his shirt off and then his boxers as Matthew worked on lowering his own.

Hands made a beeline to hold his hips once more, keeping him still under the weight that spooned over his back, while lips moved over the back of his neck. The fingers on his right dipped down, crawling over his lower stomach until they met and curled around his erection, gliding over the heated skin with just enough pressure to drive him mad.

Alfred's own erection pressed against him from behind, giving but a taste of what his body wanted as they picked up the rhythm they had before. Matthew drove it, keeping his brother in check with steady thrusts that only picked up speed when it just wasn't enough for him, ignoring the fingers on his left that bit harshly into his skin and the choked demands that wanted more.

Teeth bit into his shoulder as the body behind him shuddered, the release coating his heated skin, and grunted moan sounded beside his ear. His own body shook into the hand that guided him, directing him forward until he spilled over those calloused fingers, painting them white as his limbs collapse.

"Shit," he groaned when coherent thought returned, cluing him in to what had just happened. Alfred stirred behind him, rubbing the feeling of sticky cum into his backside and bringing the unpleasant tingly awareness of drying sweat.

"Hey, Matt?" Alfred spoke up hesitantly, and Matthew tried to shrug off the desire to play dead, "Can we, umm, you know, go a bit further?"

Fingers hesitantly probed against his ass, and he hissed against the overload of sensation his nerve endings were sending him. He didn't speak right away and Alfred seemed to believe that silence meant yes, so he wasn't overly surprised when the first cum slicked finger slipped inside.

"Alfred," he warned while making no move to stop him, body completely relaxed in the afterglow. Alfred just nuzzled into his hair, and lapped at the rim of his ear contentedly.

"Tell me you haven't felt the draw; tell me you haven't dreamt of this," the tenderly spoken words shot arrows into Matthew's heart, touching a bit too close to home. He had dreamt, gawd how he had dreamt, but he had fought so hard to resist the pull that the very idea of giving in now almost physically hurt. Another part of his brain disagreed, the feeling of their borders blurring even more than they already did brought a kind of bliss that he knew he would never have or feel with anyone else.

Gently he rolled over, feeling the finger leave him as he hooked one of his legs on the other side of Alfred and looked up into the startling blue gaze. Reaching up, he cupped the side of his lover's face and grinned, a small smile of acknowledgement,

"Just tonight," he murmured, using his other hand to draw Alfred back down, letting two fingers slip back inside. Just tonight he would live in their dream.

The fingers twisted, stroking his inner walls and stretching them, creating a delicious burn of friction as they slowly gave way. He could hear the thunder picking up again with the storm that made its way overhead, the noise sending a jolt through his entire being just as Alfred found the spot inside of him that drew a soft keening noise past his lips.

Matthew's hips started to move back, straining to feel more as they encouraged Alfred on, his cock slowly stirring as their mouths met. His lips felt chapped against Alfred's until the Superpower's tongue brushed between them in a request to go further, asking always for more. Matthew gave it to him, letting him dip between his teeth and trace over the inside of his mouth.

Alfred tasted like chicken noodle soup and toothpaste with an undertone of something sweet- coca cola- that Matthew should not have found appealing. At any other time he might have gagged, but this time he arched forward, burying his hands into Alfred's hair and drawing him closer, pulling him into an embrace that smelled of snow and sex.

The third finger went in unnoticed, just adding a bit more resistance as he moved, the feeling of Alfred, hot and pulsing against his thigh, the only thing his mind deemed worthy other than the kiss and the drive of fingers against his prostate.

"Now," he breathed against parted lips, tracing his nails down the curved spine above him. A grunt answered him, followed by the sudden absence of fingers that curled into the sleeping bag beside them, "Hand lotion is in the yellow bag."

"Fuck you, Matt," Alfred groaned but Matthew gave him a quick glare that had the other Nation scrambling for the yellow bag. "The floor is fucking cold!"

Matthew had been trying not to laugh, but the sight of a heavily aroused Alfred in wool socks was a bit too much for him. "Oh, shut up," he was told when said nation returned to his side and crawled back into the damp sleeping bag, "Like you look any better."

"Mhmmm," he replied sarcastically, watching the thick liquid as it pooled in Alfred's hand. He had to remind himself to be thankful that the other Nation was bothering to take the time to warm it before inserting his fingers back inside. Matthew groaned and pressed down, body demanding in its want to be filled, only to end up snarling softly when the magical digits were removed.

"Give me a sec," Alfred growled back, using the leftover lotion to rub over his member before reclosing the sleeping bag and getting himself comfortable between Matthew's legs. Once again the fingers were wiped off before Matthew found them wrapping around his, holding his hands in place just above his head where his sweater acted as a barrier between them and the snow.

Alfred pushed forward, inching inside with gentle dedication. Matthew felt his face twist in discomfort until warm lips pressed against his, soothing and relaxing, letting him know that in this Alfred had no intention of ever hurting him.

They held still, letting the feeling catch up to them as they panted to try and calm down their rapid heartbeats, only moving again when Matthew gave the go ahead. It was never spoken out loud; Alfred just seemed to know when it hurt or when the pain had faded. Together they moved, coming together to the sound of thunder and wind, their only light the glow from the reflectors on the bags and the occasional flash of lightning.

Matthew drew Alfred's tongue back into his mouth, teasing it with gentle sucks and caresses as their hips finally settled on a comfortable pace of unhurried strokes. His legs wrapped firmly around Alfred's waist, ankles locking him in as he brushed against the bundle of nerves that had Matthew's field of vision fill with spots.

Their hands remained clasped together, palms sweaty but never losing contact even when the back of the Canadian's hand brushed against the frozen snow. Chills ran through him, but the contact between the two Nations more than enough to fight off the cold, heating up the inside until it felt like the beginning of a Canadian summer and making the sleeping bag even more uncomfortable.

Matthew didn't care, and he would hazard a guess that Alfred didn't either; he could feel him inside of him, throbbing with every beat of his heart, bringing them as close together as they could ever dream to be. Their teeth clinked together lightly as they kissed, breathes stolen between quiet moments as their tongues played together.

A particularly hard thrust had his back bowing while a small hiss escaped, fingers tightening around Alfred's as his stomach curled into a pleasured knot. His cock was already feeling heavy as it ground between their bodies, adding to the thick scent of musk in the air.

"Alfred," he gasped, jerking when another thrust hit his prostrate, "Hurry the fuck up,"

A hoarse chuckle sounded against his mouth as one of his hands was released, the wondering appendage finding itself a home wrapped back around Matthew's cock. 

"You sound fucking sexy when you swear," Alfred rasped. 

Matthew flexed his body in rough buck that was anything but the punishment it was supposed to be, body delighting in the warm grip and the internal push and pull. Muscles tense then released, his entire form shuddering with a choked off moan, the pressure that had built up in his lower stomach releasing and recoating them both in white. Above him, Alfred echoed with a strangled moan before Matthew felt the heat from his seed filling him, leaking into the fabric beneath them when he finally pulled out.

"We're going to need a new bed," Alfred commented against Matthew’s neck, the hot breath tantalizing against his overly sensitive skin.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," the Canadian sighed, testing out his muscles one at a time until he was sure that he could sit up without falling over. The stretched and sore feeling was a nuisance, but no where near as terrible as he had thought it would be, which he suspected to be because his muscles had not settled.

"I know this is a bit backwards, but how do you feel about going on a date with me later on. Just us, Alfred and Matthew."

Matthew looked up into the clear gaze, taking in the hopeful, puppy dog look that was being directed at him. Finally he sighed and shrugged half-heartedly, "I'd like that, but we'll talk more after I get a bath. I feel like a gigantic post-it note."

Lips smacked soundly against his as he was swept up into a firm hug that threatened to knock the very air out of him, "You won't regret it! Had to wait 3 decades, but I finally got me a Canadian!"

**Author's Note:**

> Just moving this over here after some touching up. The Amecan tag really needs some love!


End file.
